I Love Being In My Room
by rogers.forbidden.love.child
Summary: Someone loves being in their room. But why do they? When you have no where else to turn who do you turn to? Why does no one hear her cry? Someone bares their soul in a poem, but is it read too late?
1. I Love Being In My Room

**I Love Being In My Room**

_I love being in my room, no one can hear me cry._

_I love being in my room, through the windows I gaze at the sky._

_I love being in my room, so pink and fluffy like strawberry pie._

_I love being in my room, no one can hear me die..._

Ms Rouke stared down at the paper before her in terror. Her mouth hung open as she checked the name at the top of the paper again before continuing to read.

_No one knows me, not the real me._

_That is somewhat my fault, for I never let them see._

_They see my outside, who I choose to be,_

_But never do they see inside, to get a peek at the real me._

Ms Rouke felt a strange twinge in her heart. She had often thought that no human being could be that truly mean.

_But now, never will they have that chance._

_Because tonight, tonight I will use the lance,_

_Formed from all their taunts and that stolen glance,_

_And behold, I shall dance my final dance._

Ms Rouke inhaled sharply as the point of this poem finally got to her. Still she fought the growing urge to drop the poem and run, forcing herself to read the last stanza.

_So here, on this first night of advent,_

_I choose to ascend, or to begin my descent,_

_With my back unbent, I speak my final lament;_

_This has truly been the summer of my discontent._

Tears fell on the page as Ms Rouke focused on the last verse. She thought she had processed the meaning of the poem but she was wrong. She stood there, staring at the page before her blankly for over five minutes before her mind managed to fully comprehend what this student was talking about. She had been handed this homework not five hours ago just after the final dismissal bell had rung. It took her a moment to make any movement at all, she was still too shocked at the thought of this particular student doing such a thing...

That moment passed fleetingly and as soon as she was free of its spell, the first thing she did was to foolishly let the paper drop to the surface of her desk. Less than a second later she was up, out of her comfortable leather cushioned chair, grabbing her coat and bag out of the corner. She ran out into the dark night and ran round the corner to the teachers' parking lot. In the dark she usually wouldn't be able to tell her car apart from the others but tonight, there were no other cars. She allowed herself to feel shock for a moment as she thought about how she really needed a social life.

The lights flashed to show it had been unlocked by her pressing the little button on the key and she wasted no time in heaving open the door on the old car and ducking inside. She stuck the key in the ignition and turned. She was awarded for her hard work with a splutter from the engine.

"Not now, not now," she said under her breath, not even noticing that breath was visible in the cold confines of her car. She turned the key again and again and still all she got was a splutter. She sighed, now noticing her breath was visible inside her car and then again outside her car.

She ignored the chill that was invading her coat and reached out into the freezing air with one gloveless hand, and brought that hand down hard on the hood. Without further ado, she drew her hand back into the warmer climate of her coat and got back into her car, having left the door open.

Once safely inside with the door as closed as it could be, she turned the key again and let a satisfied smile play on her lips as she shifted the gears and pressed her foot to the accelerator.

* * *

Back inside the school the janitor walked into Ms Rouke's classroom. He surveyed the room, making sure she wasn't there. He walked to the window as he heard a car's engine start. He made it there in time to see a very determined Ms Rouke pull out of the parking lot as fast as her car would let her. 

He looked at his watch and smiled. "She finally let herself off early for once," he muttered to himself. He shook his head slightly and looked around before deciding to leave the room for the morning janitor to do- he did still have the rest of the bathrooms to do...

He walked to the door and reached out for the light switch, not even taking a moment to look over at the papers lying on her desk in an unfinished pile.

If he had spared that moment to look over at the desk, he would have seen the name scrawled in bright pink glitter pen atop the printed page with the title 'I Love Being In My Room'.

But he never even glanced at the desk, so there was no way he could have known that tonight, Sharpay Evans was choosing to end her life.

**Should I leave this as it is? Or should I continue it as a story? Please leave me a review of what you think of this story.**

**Thanks**

**R.F.L.C**

**X**


	2. Dear Diary

**Ok well people seemed to like the first bit of this so I suppose I should continue... just be aware that this may not an entirely happy chapter.**

_Dear diary,_

_Today is the day. _

_The final day. _

_My last night._

_I know it sounds corny and like I'm trying to sound overdramatic but I'm really not. I wrote that poem as a final cry for help and no one did anything... so I suppose no one cares if I die..._

_Good._

_It just proves that they fooled me into caring for them. They fooled me into thinking they cared about me when they so obviously don't, no one does... and I can't really blame them._

_I was a bitch for so much of my life and now I'm paying the price. I treated everyone around me like dirt, like something I'd trodden in. So they decided to get their revenge._

_Got to award them for their originality though, getting me to fall for her of all people then throwing it back in my face like they did..._

_I can't believe I fell for it and brought all their lies. They were all in on it weren't they? Right from the start. And I bet this was all her idea to begin with. And who could blame her after how I treated her this summer?_

_But to get me to love her and then to take it all away from me like that? I wouldn't have even done something like that, not out of spite._

_I know I should be angry, that my rage should bubble and boil inside me until it overflows and fills my body, running through my veins until it is in every muscle, every cell, every fibre of my being. _

_But I'm not..._

_I just feel... empty._

Sharpay stood up from her desk, not even bothering to close the little pink book. She set her pen down next to the book so it was running parallel to the side of the book. She looked around her room letting out a snort of laughter as she did.

Truth was, she had felt angry... but she had worked out that anger.

She stared at the remnants of her room. Shreds of the pink wallpaper she had had covering three of her four walls littered the floor. The other wall which was mostly window had survived mostly intact, for it was not covered in wallpaper and merely painted the same shade of pink as that of the wallpaper. She stared at the pieces of plaster that were scattered amongst the scraps of wallpaper before looking at her bloodied knuckles. She winced as she reached and withdrew a piece of plaster that she had decided to leave protruding from between the knuckles of her middle and pointer finger of her left hand. She dropped it to the ground rather unceremoniously, not giving the room a second glance as she walked to the door and through it.

She emerged from the dark room full of destruction into the bright harsh lights of the upstairs hallway. She was glad that the day she had chosen to do this on fell in the night that Ryan was at 'dance practise', her mother was at 'Pilates' and her father was 'working' late at the office.

They all thought she didn't know but she did. They were all disgusting. She hated having to call herself an Evans, to be associated with them... the mere thought enough was enough to turn her stomach, making it churn and yearn to release its contents. Not that there was anything in there to throw back up, she hadn't eaten for days. She couldn't stand to be in the same room as them all, to have to breathe the same air as them... they all repulsed her.

But now was her chance to get the ultimate revenge on them.

She got to the top of the stairs before having an idea and turning back for a moment. She appeared from her brother's room, clutching at her find which she had gladly made a great mess in looking for. She moved back to the top of the stairs and raised the BB gun she had gotten so she could aim. She loved that her brother insisted on having the gold and silver BB pellets because that meant that it only took one round to loosen the chandelier that hung from the ceiling.

Time seemed to slow as the massive, expensive light piece fell to the ground. It had never been used for actual lighting purposes so there were no cables to slow to even halt its descent. She leaned over the banister and still watched as it hit the floor, shattering the many glass and jewel fragments against the cold marble of the floor of the Evans atrium. She smirked as the satisfying smash reached her ears and she continued to smirk as she descended the stairs.

She discarded the gun, throwing it over the banister, barely even noticing the crash as it fell among the chandelier remains.

She reached the bottom of the stairs but never broke her stride, moving onwards off the stairs at the same pace as she had been using ever since she left her room. The shards of glass crunched beneath her bare feet but she felt no pain. She was numb, the reality of the situation and what she was about to do finally sinking in. She thought she had prepared herself for this, but all that she had done seemed not enough now.

She had dismissed the help for the evening, not giving them a reason for her supposed 'kindness'. They had all left hours ago, not one of them checking on her before they left. But why would they? They were the help and she treated them like her slaves. She looked down her nose at every single one of them and thought herself better than them. Well at least she used to. Now she didn't even deem herself worthy to lick their shoes.

She entered the kitchen, debris from the chandelier stuck into the soft flesh of the sole of her foot. With every step she took it dug deeper and deeper, making blood flow from the wounds until she left bloody footprints behind her.

She didn't notice, running through her plan over and over again in her head.

She walked to the magnetic rack that was on the side of the wall that held the knifes that the chief used for his cooking. Her fingers played over the different blades, trying to whittle her choices down until only one remained.

Finally, she plucked the steak knife from the rack and turned back on herself, retracing her footsteps until she was stood back in the atrium.

She walked through, more pieces of the chandelier embedding themselves in her feet. She didn't care. She was too focused now on her goal and how she was to achieve it.

She paced into the front room and stood in front of one of the sofas.

This was it.

Only now could it happen.

She brought the blade she had clasped in her hand to rest on her wrist.

She thought of how she would be found, either by her parents, reunited through her father collecting her mother from her Pilates, or Ryan. Or possibly both. She really hoped it was both.

She smiled to herself as she played the scene through in her mind. They would walk in to find the chandelier on the floor and assume they had been burgled. They would call her name and her father would rush upstairs to check her room to see if she was ok. If Ryan was with them, as he sometimes was because her father sometimes made the extra stop to pick him up from dance as well, he would stay downstairs with their mother. Then her mother would need to sit down and would walk into the room she was now stood in to find her precious blonde daughter 'unconscious' on the sofa. Then they both would come into the room further and one of them would look closer and discover her dead. Her father would be called downstairs by the wails of her mother and the family would be united in grief.

So in a way she was doing them a favour.

She was giving them a way to reconnect and be a proper family again.

She smirked at her own pathetic reasoning.

She took a deep breath and steadied the blade that was pressed against her wrist. She didn't want to slip and to have this happen before she was ready to handle it. No, that wouldn't do. It would spoil everything, everything she had worked so hard to achieve in her last moments.

This is it.

This is the end.

Sharpay closed her eyes and took a deep breath before running the blade across her wrist and collapsing backwards into the sofa and its cushy embrace.

Her last thought before the darkness of unconsciousness overwhelmed her was of the one person she had truly ever loved and had been hurt by. She managed to get her lips to work one last time.

"Gabriella..." she whispered softly before the darkness became too much...

**Wow... one word and one word only... EMO! But in a good way.**

**I think I may do one more chapter. Should it be a funeral or another chapter with Ms Rouke? Yes I changed her name by the way.**

**Please leave me a review saying what you think and what you would like to see if I do maybe continue this story. But was it too dark? Should I tone it down a bit? Or keep it as it is?**

**R.F.L.C**

**X**


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